Hope. It’s just the thing for sciatica.
Hilda. And for nervous dyspepsia.
Miss Pickett. Well I suppose I might as well be—
Betty. A sport.
Kitty. I’ll get the wands and you lead us, Miss Morgan.
Ruth. Lucille, you come on too. It’s the same drill we had at school.
(Wand drill, in which Miss Pickett follows awkwardly the motions of the girls.)
Betty. That is fine, you did splendidly. If you did that every day you’d never have nervous dyspepsia.
Kitty. Now while we rest we have half an hour for mending.
Miss Pickett. Why, do you girls sew up here?